


Just Business

by fragilespark



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal, F/M, Incest, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 23:39:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilespark/pseuds/fragilespark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink meme fill:</p><p>"A client at the Blooming Rose is willing to pay good money to watch a brother-sister fuck. Set during year one in Kirkwall."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Meeran shook his head. "I don't know any more than that. They know about you, they want to work with you, and they gave me a sovereign to make sure it happens. Given that no bastard ever gives me that much of a cut, they're rich, stupid or both." He shrugged. "The rest is yours."

Hawke sighed. It was indeed becoming apparent that her day _wasn't_ complete unless she'd visited the Rose. She'd only been joking. However, the work had dried up a little this past month, and she could use a rich, stupid client. She just hoped it wasn't too much of a messy kill. Thank the Maker for Varric's ability to hush things up. She had often thought that perhaps Athenril would have been the better choice after all, but the violent flight from Lothering had ramped up her aggressive, survival instincts and murdering helped dull the pain, for a while.

"You got it. See you later, Meeran."

Carver walked silently beside her. He was no stranger to the brothel. Marian knew he went there for more than just business. She sighed again. At least neither of them had a reputation that precluded showing up. It was best if Gamlen wasn't there though, despite his "I won't tell Leandra if you don't".

 

The Rose was fairly busy and after a few discreet enquiries they were directed to the room. A neglected chaise longue on one side and four people on the other - three men seated by a coffee table and an elf woman pouring them drinks.

"Evening," Hawke said dubiously, as the elf woman near darted to lock the door behind them.

"Good evening, Miss Hawke. Serah Hawke." The man with the dark beard grinned and motioned them to sit.

No handshakes then. Straight to business. Marian looked down at the careless way they had their pouches of money already on the table. _Rich and stupid._

"So. Tell me about the job."

Another dark haired man produced a glass jar, which clinked with several sovereigns. A generous amount.

"Nine." He answered for her.

"But there's more to be had, depending on how you do." said the bearded man.

Nine sovereigns to start. A ten percent cut. No fuss. Those nine gold coins alone could serve very nicely indeed. "Go on."

"This isn't an assassination job."

Hawke's shoulders straightened. She hadn't realised how reluctant she'd been but this made it better. Unless- "Torture?"

The man laughed. "No, no."

"It's very simple. We are interested in you. We ask only an hour of your time. To... indulge us."

Carver shifted beside her. He didn't need to say it. He probably wasn't even needed for this. It was all about her. At least it seemed that way from the way the conversation bypassed him.

"Well," she said, turning her palm up briefly, "how can I help?"

"Not just you. Your brother, too."

Carver leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. "Go on." he echoed.

"We're just looking for... a little fun. This is the perfect location for it, after all, don't you agree?"

 

Carver was hit with the implication. "You're not touching my sister," he growled before Hawke could respond in kind, "or me." If that was what they wanted. Maker.

The bearded man, who had not dropped his infuriating smile, raised his hands. "We have no intention."

Still silent was the other man in the room, redheaded and hardly as amused as his companion. He toed the nearest coinpurse on the table and the elf dropped to her knees to open it.

"Remember. There is so much more coin to be had. It would be such a shame to waste this opportunity."

What kind of thing did these creeps have planned? Carver looked over at Marian, not bothering to hide the scowl that told her exactly what he thought about this situation. She looked wary, but also bemused, because the men had said plenty of things this wasn't, and nothing at all about what it was.

"So what," Hawke said, a slight waver in her voice, "we're to... show our battlescars to you or something?"

"That would be lovely."

"No-" Carver said, then hissed to Marian, "let's go. We didn't come here for this."

"I know, but..."

Maker, she was considering it. Stripping for these perverts for coin? His sister? One hour? He wouldn't allow it for one minute.

"Carver," she whispered, although it was pointless in the quiet room, "we can..." she gestured uselessly, "negotiate?"

There was a chuckle. "You'll do the minimum we ask, or you don't get the jar. You keep going, and we'll add to it. Generously. Those are the only terms."

Carver thought of the things they desperately needed to buy, of the nice meals they could have once in a while. Would it be worth it, to strip? How far would they have to go? He was uncomfortable going to his smalls, but they probably wanted him naked, didn't they? He glared at them and wondered which one of them had asked for him. It was at least one less pair of eyes on Marian, but Maker, why hadn't they fled already? Coin or no coin.

"So what's the minimum? To get the jar?"

"If you want to set your sights so low..." a scoff. "I was told that you were extraordinary. That the Hawke name was setting a blaze through the city and fear into people's hearts. And you're cowering over a little playful indulgence!"

Carver bristled. He'd strip right there and then to shut the bastard up. "Fine!"

"Carver..."

"Well? Why don't we just get this over with? Take their stupid coin." He stood, angrily unbuckling his vest. "Is this what you want?"

The elf kept her head down, staring at the coin purse she had clutched in her hands like a wounded bird. The men all looked pleased, looking between him and his sister.

"What if it's just me?" Carver said. Maybe they could leave her out of this. "Half?"

"I'm afraid not. We're looking for this to be a... joint effort between you."

 

Marian understood Carver's reaction. On the one hand, easy coin. On the other... exposing herself to these strangers like a whore. There was an uneasy sense that they would only ask more and more, and she wasn't sure what line she should draw. Carver was already crossing the line he thought he'd fixed moments ago, wasn't he?

In everything else she was good at reading the situation and adapting to suit. Maybe this called for the same thing. Or maybe it needed detachment, pure and simple. She followed Carver's lead and quietly removed pieces of her armour. The quiet unbuckling continued until she peered up at the clients, perturbed. "Well? Don't you want to ask any questions?"

"No," the bearded man said casually, leaning back in his chair, "we'll just tell you what to do."

She glanced at Carver, who was already topless. She knew some of his battle scars. She had either inflicted them or healed them. Others were new. He wore them well. Marian was sure her brother could withstand anything. If only Bethany-

Now was not the time. Now was definitely not the time.

Carver, with an annoyed grump, practically threw off his breeches and sat down hard on the seat, glaring at the men. Marian could feel the anger. He was warm. She was down to her clothing, simple vest and leggings, and she flushed, hesitant.

She almost expected a hurry on, but the clients at the very least were patient. That or they were too busy with their arousal. She didn't dare check. But- she wasn't even naked, or anywhere near it. She was getting worked up too soon. This was just an odd request. Just some perverted, curious, well paying, clients. No killing. Just a show of skin. She made herself breathe easier before tucking her thumbs into her waistband and sliding the leggings down.

She couldn't bear the silence and she refused to look up, so she glanced to the side at Carver who looked at her all worry and the companionship that came from being in the same predicament.

Marian was glad he was here. Perhaps it wouldn't be too bad.

She blew the hair out of her face and concentrated on the task, pulling off her vest and placing it on the pile of clothes beside her. Like Carver, she just sat in her underwear, and waited.

The noise made them both jump. Marian looked up to find the beardless man had opened the jar.

She sighed in relief. It would be fine. And they weren't even tenting. Battle scars. That was it, wasn't it? She was almost eager to show hers off now - the few she had, anyway.

"A little overdressed, aren't you?" he mocked eventually.

Marian ducked her head and darted a look at Carver again. His mouth was set in a glum line. Obviously he hadn't had such optimistic illusions. He'd been waiting for this moment.

Well, the waiting would help fill the hour, but they weren't getting paid for this part. Marian wondered which part would be the least humiliating to take off first. She was sitting, so maybe her smalls... but she could cover her breasts with her arm, and she couldn't do that if she then had to slide her smalls down, so it rather settled it. Yet she couldn't move a muscle, and her brain rebelled against even thinking about it.


	2. Chapter 2

Every time Carver thought that Marian would stop and go through with it, she would remove another piece of clothing. He was rather proud though. Rather than give them a strip like they probably wanted, it was functional. Taking off their armour in a routine so automatic it was barely a chore. Just a too-fascinated audience for what it was. He was sure they'd seen dozens of bodies before.

It was a new skill he was learning in Kirkwall, having to talk himself into things. Without Bethany by his side - it still hurt - he was still lashing out at the world, but growing. Marian may not have always known the best way to deal with him but they were closer than they were before, banding together when pushed.

That was it, really. Doing this for money. For family. To pay the debts. It was just another job. Marian might have been thinking the same thing.

Marian tugged at her smalls and bent forward, sliding them down her legs. The shock that went through Carver was a double hit of surprise and seeing her- he looked away immediately. He hadn't meant to see the hint of dark curls, she had just done it so fast that he had no chance to avert his eyes. His heart was leaping and he cursed himself. Stupid brothel. Stupid clients. Stupid coin.

He could tell by the way she moved her arms that she was removing her bra and then covering up too. His sister. Naked. Maker, he should kill them all for this. Staring at the wallpaper he did think that they'd be jeering, but... there was nothing. Just his tumultuous thoughts and the sweet scented air falling on his body. Carver knew that these walls were modestly soundproof, so there was not even the bustle of the bar below, or the sounds of other patrons to distract him. Although he was glad of the latter, because imagining himself with one of the girls was bound to get himself more aroused than the situation called for.

Maker, that would be embarrassing.

He slowed his thoughts to accept that it was his turn now. Following Marian's lead, he slid his smalls over his ass and then cupped between his legs as he awkwardly tugged them down with one hand. He let the warm fabric pool at his ankles for a second before sliding his feet out.

There. It was done.

"Very good. But that's hardly enough, is it?"

Of course not. Why would it be?

"What do you want?" Carver said, and he grimaced at the uncertainty in his voice. He did not want to show weakness, under any circumstance. He just had to stay in control. It was just a body. By the void, it just like their own. Only he was better built. Marian had more to be worried about. He had to remember that.

"Miss Hawke, if you would recline please?"

He concentrated on his incredulity at the politeness rather than the feel of Marian's feet brushing above his rear as she swung them behind him.

 

Marian had accepted the instruction more readily than she could have predicted. Considering the alternatives that flew through her mind of spreading her legs or other such exposing things, the line that she was willing to draw kept at bay, inch by inch.

From here she could see Carver, so much more tense than before, his back and arm muscles bulging as he curled forward. Well, he was certainly well defined, if they wanted to see his body they could not claim they were disappointed. He was rather beautiful. Very, in fact. She shifted in place. There was really only one position available to her, cupping and covering herself as she was, and she was grateful for the pillow beneath her head. She didn't even have to look at them! Wonderful.

A quick thought of terror sank in. What if they were going to come over? They had said no touching, but... she couldn't even cover her face. They could probably read her anxious expression like a book.

"Now, Serah Hawke. Turn to your sister."

Marian felt so bad for him. She could practically feel the resistance as he ignored their request at first, then he turned his head towards her, but he didn't look. His gaze flicked to the far wall then settled on the floor.

He had seen her before... at some distant point. Her years on him meant he was probably not seeing anything new. He liked his flings here - unless he went for elves? She had never thought about it before, and certainly never asked. It comforted her that it was not merely shyness but respect for her that he didn't look, but she doubted it would satisfy.

Marian thought of the jar of nine sovereigns. How long had this... indulgence lasted already?

"Come, now. Don't be coy."

"What am I supposed to do?" Carver grumbled, and his eyes went to her strategically covered body before he turned away again.

The man scoffed. "So jittery! So scared. We haven't even started yet."

Marian was disappointed. He made it sound as if they were nowhere near.

"Now. Both of you, move your blighted hands and don't let me catch you looking at the walls again."

Carver looked at her face, his eyebrows furrowing in a pained expression. He was so uncomfortable with this but what could they do? They had come so far. Marian couldn't give him the comfort he sought. Her face grew hot even though his eyes never left hers and she couldn't, she couldn't. Carver closed his eyes and Marian knew, she knew that he was deferring to her judgement on this. It was too sensitive a situation for him to even be sorry about it. He trusted her out of everyone in this room. They were on the same side.

"What do you expect from us afterwards?" she said, earning a soft exhale from her brother. The tension was becoming too much.

"You're going to touch each other," Carver's eyes snapped open at the statement, "show us those... scars."

Marian squirmed. Carver's hands on her? No, that was not what she needed to think about right now, though she imagined it and it seemed so appealing. _Why_. Comfort? She frowned at her confused thought. She needed to know the rest. "And when we're out of scars?"

"You're going to explore the rest. Thoroughly."

 

Marian. Touching Marian. What in the void was wrong with him? Obviously it was preferable to those leeches going near her but her skin- his mind fluttered with unbidden hints from his imagination, things he'd never thought and never wanted. It was just this place, and her body, it just happened to be beautiful and he loved her, right? His sister.

Carver was almost making himself dizzy with how worked up he was getting and he fought to calm himself but how? How? Would Marian suggest it? Would she do it for the money? Was it enough? Questions, questions and doubts.

"Please," he whispered, " _decide_."

They could walk out of here with nothing but their humiliation, or they could play along and be paid a handsome fee for this perversion. It was lose-lose either way. That bastard Meeran would have his coin either way.

Marian was looking at him and he made eye contact, only for her to give a questioning nod.

He couldn't. He thought of the money. He thought of touching Marian. He agonised. She was in if he was, and he was in if she was. It was as if the clients were voyeurs to their tension, as if it was all part of the show.

Of course it was. A brother and sister touching each other? So that was what it was about. He had no words for his disgust, but then realised that worse things probably happened under this roof every single night.

If Marian trusted him- Carver sighed in a rush. "Okay."

Marian blushed more and didn't move. From her position, she probably couldn't even see his cock as it was, tucked down in front of him. If he moved his hand to his leg, they might see, but she wouldn't. It was decided then. He moved his hand.

She kept her eyes on his face and slid her hands away, and he was so stupid because his eyes moved automatically to the exposed breasts and he squeezed his eyes shut, gasping, "sorry, Sister."

"You're acting like two virgins in a whorehouse." The leader remarked, the sound of growing impatience in his voice. "Are you virgins?"

"No!" Carver snapped. Marian didn't answer, and he had no idea if she was or if she just didn't want to admit she'd been with anyone. The thought of her never having been touched before, never having been seen before, made him just as protective as if she was already with someone and wanting to stay loyal. Was it someone he knew? Wrapped up in this circumstance it was hard to think of them now.

His clenched fist on his thigh was tense with his body's want to do something, stop thinking and get this over with.

"Put your hand on me," he rasped, "let's show them the bloody scars."

Marian sat up and leaned for him, and he vaguely realised she was cleverly covering herself this way, when her hand stroked down his arm and his skin sent pleasure through his body that had him craving the gentle touch.


	3. Chapter 3

Marian palmed down Carver's big arm. It was a chance to give him comfort from this truly bizarre situation. What a way to earn money! They were no whores and yet they were being asked to provide this... in between service. To be stared at. To be touched, but not by the client. She stroked her hand down Carver's arm again, hopefully soothing him.

"Do you want to know about his tattoo?" she asked, watching its subtle swell with Carver's every breath.

"We don't actually want your life story, but whatever makes it happen for you. Just keep touching, or you won't get anything at this rate."

Marian pressed her lips shut in frustration. They kept moving the target further and further away, or so it seemed. _Make what happen?_ she wondered as she placed a palm on Carver's chest, over the inked mabari. "It's a... soldier... camaraderie..." Her words failed her. It wasn't just because Carver could explain it better. She was shocked. Numb. She needed help.

Carver took one look at her and put his arms around her waist, hugging her close protectively. "No. This has gone far enough. Take your damned coin!"

" _Carver_." she managed, arms around his neck. They couldn't leave with nothing. Not now. Not after all this.

"You don't mean that," the man laughed then, before adding, "if you'd been a bit quick about it you'd be having all these doubts after you were done. Over a pint, probably. I'd have paid for it too. Now get on with it."

"Marian, are you okay?" he pressed his cheek against hers and she was surrounded with such warmth, hugged against him. It was wonderful. He was being so caring. Her breasts were crushed between them and it didn't matter now that they were naked and touching. She was safe with him.

She held on tighter and felt him respond in kind. "What more can it be? We can do this. I... I love you."

Her heart throbbed as she clutched a hand in his hair at the back of his head. His hands were stroking at her waist and she couldn't push more against him if she tried. Fuck those bastards for getting to her nerves. Fuck them for orchestrating this whole thing between them. They had the naked Hawkes, oh what a laugh. Well, she was touching her brother because she loved him.

And she liked it. She couldn't grasp why, but to the void if they were going to have enjoyment at her expense. Carver was hers to touch. They couldn't reach them. They wouldn't break this.

She swept her hand down the back of Carver's neck and he shivered.

"Marian..." it was soft. He'd never said her name like that before.

She shuddered too. Why did it feel so wonderful? To be held like this. Intimate. Warm. Like lovers.

"Carver," she whispered back.

Carver pushed her away and Marian jerked her arms down. "Don't do that without warning!" she yelped, embarrassed as she covered up.

Carver hadn't been fast enough. His cock stiffened behind his covering hand and he muttered an apology, head bowed.

The sharp ring of a coin being thrown into the jar made Marian's blood go cold.

 

"Now you're getting somewhere."

Carver reddened in an indignant wave of rage and arousal. The jar now held ten gold coins. They were paying for his cock. For his reaction over his sister. He tried to tell himself it was only natural but he rebelled against such patronising pep-talk. He wanted to be furious at them. It felt healthy. He would not push it down. They had manipulated him.

"Not fast enough." the other man laughed. "Miss Hawke, on all fours? _If you please_."

"Don't even think about leaving," said the leader, "no gentleman would get his kicks and leave his lady unsatisfied."

"I'm not- I'm not-" Carver blustered.

"How much more?" said Marian.

The man held another gold coin up. "This is for getting wet," he nodded his head towards Carver, "with his help."

"Sick fucks." she muttered, beyond caring about being rude to clients. Carver felt exactly the same.

She stared down before shuffling back and getting on hands and knees, still mostly covered to the men from the side but Carver knew if he turned to look at her she'd be intimately exposed to him. Well, they didn't say he couldn't look at the ceiling but they'd probably chide him for that too. He'd have to look at her back. Pretend to be looking lower.

Carver shuffled on the chaise awkwardly, kneeling behind her. She couldn't see him, at least. Was that a good thing? He rested his palms on the small of her back. Perhaps a massage? That would feel good. He didn't understand women's bodies enough to know exactly how they would react to enough non-sexual touching, but if he could get aroused in this situation, she could too. Of course, her own private thoughts would be hard to access with an audience and her sibling behind her.

Marian dropped her head. "Go on, Carver."

Carver slid his hands up either side of her spine and back down again. The arch in her back, her staff-trained build, the dimples above her buttocks, all these were incredibly appealing to Carver and he bit down on his lip as his erection twitched to further fullness. He would have to stop thinking this way or he'd end up with the proof spilled across her back.

Marian's thighs shifted and Carver lifted his gaze, there was no way, no way he was going to check if she was wet. She would have to tell them that.

The men chuckled amongst themselves. "Will we be needing this coin?" one said, tossing it over to the other. The third remained, as ever, a silent observer.

Carver bristled. It wasn't his lack of skill that was failing to make his sister wet. If it were up to him he'd be bent down and licking her out by now. He squeezed his eyes shut at the thought. If she was another woman. Another woman. Not his sister. Treacherous mind.

"You can tease each other all day but it still won't get you what you want." the man emptied his drink. Carver wished that they could have downed a couple of shots themselves so they could pretend this whole thing never happened.

It wouldn't hurt to ask. He was parched.

"Any chance of a drink?"

"And dampen your enthusiasm? No." but he beckoned the elf over to refill his own.

 

Carver's hands were bringing warmth and pleasure to Marian's body, but she kept her focus, although resisting was the opposite of what she had to do to get through this predicament. She was compelled to keep a shred of dignity, however small. She felt bad for Carver, and ashamed. He shouldn't have to go through this alone, but she couldn't relax as much as his wonderful touch should have coaxed.

Arousal was not something someone could do to another, after all. A physical reaction, yes. Arousal... that came from within. Finding someone sexy. _Carver's torso_. Feeling sensual. _Naked under Carver's hands_. The promise of an encounter. _Carver hard for her_. She clutched at the embroidered throw, the thoughts working through her, making her crave him.

"Come on," came the jeer, "give her what she wants."

Carver's voice was small. "You can't want me to... touch her."

"Not with your hands, no. You're all hard and ready. Put it to good use. Or do you need me to show you how it's done."

"No!"

Marian cursed them for taunting Carver's pride, and Carver for letting it get to him. He gripped her hips and she gasped as his warm cock touched between her thighs.

"I'm sorry, Marian."

"It's fine," she said automatically, unable to tear her attention away from the fact that Carver's cock was practically between her legs.

Then he lifted it and pushed and she had to stop herself from squealing as the length dragged underneath her clit. She held herself rigid so she wouldn't clamber away, and he apologised again in a whisper as he pulled back and pushed close again into the tight space between her thighs.

She would not moan. She would not moan. A low hum was on the brink of her, the sensation that he was feeding in needing an outlet somehow. She heard his breathing, heavier each time he repeated the movement.

"Oh, Marian, I'm so sorry." he repeated.

She should be apologising. If she had only let herself get into this he wouldn't have to do this. She was into it now, too late but inevitable as he drew his erection back and forth over her clit. His cock was warm but dry, and although she could feel the reaction spreading in her, it was not enough. She wiggled away with a frustrated sound and wished to be anywhere but here.

"Oh dear, what a disappointment."

"Shut up!" then softer, for her, "I'll try something else."

Carver's breath was shaky as he placed one hand on her lower back, gentle pressure until she arched up. Her gasp cut the air as he brushed the tip down her folds and back up again. He did it again, slowly, and Marian could feel the warmth that pooled inside her, that grew as soon as she sighed, accepting the touch, accepting the pleasure.

She could feel Carver's cock start to slip as he moved the head up and down, and part of her still prayed that the dampness was only sweat.


	4. Chapter 4

Carver held his cock firm as he stroked the head up and down. The arousal in his own body was unbearable. He started to feel the change in friction as she started to get wet. He could barely believe that his sister was finally able to get pleasure from his cock alone like this. His moan was low as he felt the wetness smear with his movement, flicking over her opening and hearing her soft, keening sigh.

He waited for the sound - the sound of the coin that would let them stop, because moving like this, over and over, was a torment that was making him shake all over with restraint and desire.

His straining cock was slipping through the wetness now, feeling so good, and every single time Carver was having to choke back the desire to plunge into her. She was panting for him and she would be so incredibly warm. Carver shut his eyes, his stubbornness the last of his willpower left to him.

Marian let out a helpless moan and Carver grunted as a little more flowed from her and their action produced increasingly slick sounds.

"Alright, you're ready," the coin was thrown in, "just fuck, and the jar is yours. We'll keep adding to it, don't worry."

He stopped. The idea should have made Carver recoil in disgust, but his mind was spinning and he was aching for it and it was a relief to know that they were finally going to get the money. "Marian," he gasped, voice barely his.

"Don't-" she grunted, "he's my _brother_. He can't-"

"Don't worry. We don't want him to get you pregnant. Just fuck for a while. That's all. He'll pull out. Won't you?"

"Yeah," Carver's voice was rough, "I can do that." He watched the damp hair at the back of Marian's neck as he waited, panting. He would never do it without her permission. He'd rather jerk off in front of them all.

She lifted her head and turned it, although they couldn't make eye contact she knew he was watching as she nodded once and dipped her head back down again.

Carver wanted to cry, to tell her no, but there was no more resistance to break through and he looked down at her and knelt closer, pushing his erection into the pleasurable heat. His breath escaped in a rush as she moaned, their bodies both shuddering. Marian felt amazing and he couldn't believe she was so ready for him. He would have to please her if they were going to do this. Everything else be damned, he was not going to take her and leave her unsatisfied. He started to move, sliding his hand in between them to smear it wet before curling his arm round her waist to fondle her clit.

"Carver!"

He panted hard and squeezed his eyes shut, turning away from the clients and resting his cheek on her upper back, one hand beside hers to support him. He could not believe how incredible it felt, how he could take pleasure from something so wrong. Marian was tucked up under his body as he thrust into her, and it was a futile gesture of protection against the men.

Vaguely he became aware of the light clinking sound that matched his thrusts. Not gold now. It sounded like copper.

 

Marian's eyes were brimming with tears but there was no way she was going to let anyone know that. Yet when the sound started, she opened her eyes to see the shape of the elf dropping the cheap coins into the jar. It was all clear now. Payment for performance. She'd never felt more like a whore in her life.

Carver's body covered and filled her and in spite of their joining being the most sinful thing in the room, she focused on him instead of the men, giving in to his pleasure and comfort. His warm breath puffed against her back, his hand worked at her and made her whimper and arch back against him. The feel of his shaft inside her was even better than she had imagined from his tip alone. She had done this once, in Lothering, and she didn't remember feeling like this. So intense. So willing for their bodies to keep going.

His hand was driving her crazy and she cried out, grabbing onto his wrist. He took the hint and slowed, dipping his fingers to where his cock went in before sliding light, soothing circles over and around her clit.

Little brother was experienced.

Carver shifted forward a bit, steadying himself, and he planted a kiss on her shoulderblade before resting his cheek back down again. He didn't thrust hard, just deep, and he wasn't hurting her at all. If they hadn't been siblings, if they weren't being watched, how she would enjoy this. As it was, her body did but her mind reminded her that everything about this was wrong.

Marian was moving with him, feeling his thighs bump against the back of hers, the shift of his body on top of her, the press of his chest. She could _feel_ his grunting as well as hear it and it made her want him more, his voice, his weight, his touch. She was melting and yearning for Carver and only Carver.

Maker, what had they made her think? Her baby brother! The realisation made her body tense and it wrought from Carver a desperate sound.

"Pull out."

The thrusting stopped. "What? But I'm not-" Carver fumbled, "it's over?"

Their heaving breaths were the only thing in the silence. She had gotten so used to the sound of their payment.

She risked a glance. The gold was smothered in copper. The leader opened another pouch of coin. "We'll upgrade you to silver if you pull out and fuck her ass."

Neither of them reacted. Marian was too stunned to.

"You get to come inside her, and _you_ get safe sex. Everyone's happy."

Marian wanted 'everyone' to leave her alone in a dark room where she could hide and never come out again. They were suggesting... she could barely comprehend it. The tears threatened to spill once more.

She could feel Carver shaking. He was waiting for her again. Part of her longed for him to take charge and take her away from this. She felt so safe with him.

That might be it. If he knew what he was doing, there would be nothing to fear. "...go on." she whispered, hating the words.

 

 _Go home_ , she had said. It was over. Because she couldn't have possibly said _go on_.

Nobody was moving.

Carver didn't understand how Marian could want it. How could she go that far for money? Yet he didn't know her history. She might like it. It was something he'd never tried, never thought to try, but he supposed people did it because it must feel good. He couldn't be sure if he'd be as skilled as her other lovers. He didn't want to stop what he was doing. He knew that he was making Marian feel good, at least physically, and he didn't shame her for it in the slightest. He felt the same. It was utterly, mindblowingly exquisite.

Against all his instincts and achingly slowly, he pulled out of Marian until his cock slipped out, absolutely dripping with her. She groaned, and he bit down so hard on his lip that it hurt. He would have told them to go. He would have told them it was over and taken the jar. He'd reached his limit, but Marian was pushing it further and he had no choice but to follow. They had come to the point where nothing could be worse than they had already done and it was now their choice to how much extra money they would earn.

Every thrust, a silver. Another meal. Money towards new gear.

He felt a little sick.

"Need a little help, do you?"

He couldn't bring himself to snap at them. Swallowing, he placed a hand on one of her buttocks. Would being soaked from her be enough? He had no idea what to do.

There was a sigh and low mutter. "Give it to him."

The elf scrambled up and went to him, holding out a small clasped tub. For all Carver knew it could have contained a drug to make him lose the last of his inhibitions and get on with it. He took it numbly and she stumbled back, kneeling to pick up the bag of silver.

Carver opened it, feeling as if he were watching himself do so, and it was filled with a thick looking substance. He touched it and found that it was slimy. It answered his question, at least. This act was common enough for there to be adequate preparation for it. He let himself look between Marian's legs, really look, and found her so beautiful. How he longed to be inside her again. If he could only take her away, but they wouldn't be doing this anywhere but here. Unless they were being paid for it. So, there was no if. There was just now.

He rubbed the two fingers he had dipped in the balm together against his thumb, spreading it down their length and around as far as he could reach. He had already apologised out loud so many times and he prayed she knew he was doing so again silently as he pushed his fingers into her hole.


	5. Chapter 5

Marian gasped when Carver's fingers entered her. Her first thought was that they could not do this. Yet it wasn't unpleasant. She had guessed they had been coated in some kind of lubrication and that made the sensation almost comfortable. She had been so shocked and worried, but as Carver started rubbing inside her, turning his hand to apply the balm all around the inside of her ass, she relaxed and felt as if she was sinking into the chaise.

When Carver had been made to pull out of her, she had been left cold, but now she had a different source of warmth and even though it felt wholly different, it spread through her all the same. She could feel the warmth reach the tips of her toes, a familiar sensation from whenever she masturbated for long enough.

Carver was still panting, groping her buttock with his free hand as he massaged her from the inside with the other. Maker his _fingers_. How many women he must have pleasured with that talented touch. Her breath came out ragged as she imagined him fingering her.

"Nnn Carver..." she sighed, letting him know- what. That she was with him. That this was okay.

The thick fingers withdrew, leaving her feeling worked and roused by the new sensation, keenly aware of where his touch had been.

She heard nothing but the hitch in his breathing and when the tub bounced to the side she realised he was stroking himself, the image coming to her as clear as if she was really seeing it. Marian swallowed hard and remembered to tell herself that she shouldn't be thinking about it before resuming the vision, her eyes widening as she matched it to the gentle, sticky sounds and his halting breaths. Carver. " _Carver_ ," she gasped without meaning to, shaken by her own want for him.

He smeared a hand between her buttocks and she moaned out loud, pushing back for him.

"Marian," he said shakily, nudging the head of his cock against her ass. He pushed.

Marian cried out, and after she gasped for air she cried out louder. It _hurt_. Gone was the pleasure from moments ago. How could his cock feel so different? It was too big, far too big for this. Her body writhed with rejection and she yelled again.

Carver's hands were on her shoulders. "Make- oh- _Sister_ ," he groaned out, "are... are you... okay?"

The first coin went in. She couldn't answer. It was too much. They should never have done this.

He laid against her as before, kissing the back of her neck. His hands slid down to her upper arms, stroking soothingly. "Marian?" he managed, strained.

She held still, willing it to feel different. Her body was still protesting but it was easier to think. Just breathe. "Wait." _Just wait. Please._ She whimpered, not knowing what to do to make it easier.

"Shhh... shh..." he nuzzled and whispered, "I won't move until you tell me to." His voice was still racked with a tension that wasn't there before, and she realised it was probably different for him too. Tighter.

"Sorry." she blurted.

"It's okay." Carver's weight shifted on her and his hands went to her breasts, cupping and squeezing in a way she knew she had always wanted.

 

Carver hadn't intended to grope his sister's tits - the men hadn't demanded it and he had wanted to leave at least one part of her unharassed - but it seemed wrong to try and force her pleasure by molesting her clit again and this would distract them both. Being inside her this way was excruciatingly intense and he wanted to move just to relieve it.

His eyes fluttered closed as he fondled their softness, their weight. Maker but they were _perfect_ in his hands. 

"Oh, Carver..." she sighed again, the edge of pain waning from her voice.

She liked it. He dared to hope so. Her hardened nipples were brushing over his palms. Carver watched the shift of her shoulders, wanting to know her, wanting to know all the things that could never be allowed. His hands kept moving, fingers curling open and closed around her breasts, grasping and pushing them up before loosening and letting them hang and jiggle - only to take hold of them again. He loved them.

"Mmmm..."

He felt Marian relax further, the set of her hips softening and some of the tension easing from around him. He let out a deep breath against her neck and she tilted her head up, turning her cheek towards him. Instinctively he pressed close and brushed his parted lips against her face, making her arch under him as he sank in fully.

"Maker, Carver- ah..."

He kept his voice low, just for her, as he breathed her name and kissed her neck, wanting her to know how much he loved her.

The deep chuckle snapped him out of his devotion and he dampened down the open vulnerability in his heart. It was not for them. They would not see it. He palmed his hands down her stomach before lifting them to her arms again, brushing them with the lightest of fingertip touches. "Are you ready?" he whispered.

"Yes." Marian shifted in place and Carver leaned back, kneeling upright again. He needed to control this. His erection was aching so hard but he refused to hurt her thoughtlessly. He clutched her hips, thumbs pressing into the soft skin by her dimples, and slowly pulled back with a moan he couldn't hold back.

His body was screaming a need for him to move inside her and he pushed back inside, hearing the chuckle and the clink and Marian's shuddered gasp, and pulled back out, his own voice repeating the groan, softer this time as he relieved the pressure. Licking his tongue over his open lips, he slid in and out, easier each time, his focus on the room blurring away before he just closed his eyes and surrendered to his other senses.

 

Marian had her eyes squeezed shut and her hands clenched into the throw as she let Carver take her. Her chest felt bare without his touch and she was hungry for more of it, but this is what had to be done. It was just a job. She could hardly forget, shaking and sore, hearing the payment of those who wanted this of her. A small dread thought that the hour would never end, that they would ask for more and more-

Carver. There was Carver. She exhaled her tense breath. It had worked before. Just think of him.

His girth wasn't hurting as much as before, and the rhythmic roll of his hips was a similar pace to before. Her body knew how to do this, or something like it. She let out a deeper breath and swayed back onto his movement rather than hold tense resistance. Carver groaned with pleasure, his hands twitching around her hips. She shifted on all fours, willing each muscle in her body to relax, consciously having to release the tension in each one, but it worked. Her body accepted Carver's length even more readily. He started to grunt and sigh as he sank in deeply with each thrust, and Marian found that moaning helped it feel good.

Hearing Carver's vocal response reignited her arousal, and she felt the guilt sweep through her but cared less and less. Carver was loving, sexy, and hers. If being lovers condemned them, she would take the blame. Right now he was the only thing that mattered.

The more she mired herself in her lust for him, the wetter she got again, and she panted as she succumbed to it. Her hand trembled under her weight as she yearned to touch herself. It would feel good. It would make this better. She bit her lip, still resisting letting herself be wanton in front of them - but Carver didn't know how hot she was for him. How he might be torturing himself the same way, unable to get the pleasure that would help end this faster.

Marian bit her lip a moment in hesitation. _Carver, I'm doing this for you. And for me._ She pushed all her weight on one hand and lifted the other to her clit, and as soon as she did, pleasure sparked through her. "Carver..."

"Oh, fuck..." Carver groaned, thrusting more surely.

He dug his fingers in and she focused on his warm hands, imagining them all over her body, knowing she could never ask. She rubbed her clit as he had done earlier, unable to hold back the quivering gasps as she remembered and repeated his touch, wanting him there.

" _Marian_ ," he breathed, deep and husky, and she loved her name on his lips.


	6. Chapter 6

Seeing Marian pleasure herself was giving Carver the most incredible high. He felt the tension around his neck and collarbones as his thrusting brought him closer and closer to the edge. His breath came short and hard as he fucked her and he knew it would be all over soon.

"Harder." came the command.

"Ha- nnghh..." was Carver's incoherent response.

"You'll get gold. Come on, Miss Hawke. Give him some encouragement. He likes to do what you say."

He didn't want to hurt her.

"Think of how long you'd have to fuck to earn the equivalent in silver. Another ten sovereigns in as many moments. It's worth it. The grand finale."

Marian grunted, her breath ragged. "Just do it..." she moaned impatiently.

Carver drew back and slammed his whole body against her with a grunt. The heavy gold landed in the jar as Marian whimpered. He did it again, yanking her to him, and again, his lower back aching. Marian was shaking, her heaving gasps turning to sobs as he did it again and again.

He couldn't come like this.

"No..." Carver had never fucked anyone that hard, feeling as if his strength could break her. He stopped his assault, knowing his body and fearing for Marian's. He liked to rut fast near climax and wanted to end this for them both without doing any more damage between them. He returned to his earlier pace, ignoring their abuse, wanting to return to that place where he and Marian were both feeling good, lost in each other. It could never come again. He was already pushed too near the edge.

She had stopped crying out and he quickened his thrusts, hips slapping against her behind. His stomach tensed and the strained growl that gathered in him couldn't be contained. He rocked his body faster and held his breath before letting it all out in a rush as he came, calling out Marian's name. He clutched her hips to him as he shuddered and then sagged, slipping out of her and sinking down on his heels.

Marian also lowered her hips, hugging herself. Carver gathered her back against his heaving chest and wrapped his arms around her. He couldn't speak, but there were so many things he wanted to say.

"That's it? You're not going to make her come?"

"Please leave." Marian said, keeping her head down.

"You have the chance to-"

" _Leave!_ Now."

The laughter was mocking but they eventually stood up and gathered their things, leaving the jar and the empty glasses on the table. "I won't shake hands with you. But it was a _pleasure_ doing business with you both. Give my regards to Meeran."

Marian shuddered against him and Carver kept her close. It was over. That was all that mattered.

Carver waited until the clients had given them a final leer and closed the door behind them to press his face against Marian's neck. He couldn't stop shaking. He didn't know how to apologise enough. It would never be enough.

He was closer to her than he had ever been, but with her back turned to him, he could be shut away from her forever because of this, and he was terrified of it. How he'd resented her all these years. He hadn't known how much he could love her.

 

"I'm sorry." Carver said gently behind her.

Marian didn't want Carver to see her weak. She didn't want him to see her crying, because of the humiliation, because of the way they'd made him hurt her. It was her job to protect her little brother, not let him participate in this.

Yet he held on steadfastly, that big body trembling, offering an apology that would make anyone melt.

She wiped her face and kept still for a long moment, learning what it was to be without an audience, her thoughts too much for her head.

When she looked down, there were the beautiful lines of Carver's arms, his hands curled around hers. He was still so warm. She tried to understand her feelings. She felt safe. Was that what she was? The kind to cower behind someone else? It didn't make sense. But she was sure of one thing.

"Marian."

She turned towards him, shoulder against his chest. He pressed his lips against her hair. "Carver. I promise you, we will _never_ have to do something like this for money again. I'll make sure of it."

He nodded and sighed. "Are you okay?"

It wouldn't be fair to lie to him, but he didn't need to know how much she ached, how much she hated herself at that moment. "I think I will be. ...what about you?" She looked up.

Carver's face was flushed and having him so close to her was a jolt to her nerves. "I'm fine," he said, but she recognised the anguish and confusion in his face before he kissed her.

He wasn't supposed to be doing that. His lips were soft and his mouth was warm, and Marian wasn't supposed to be kissing back but she did, and she felt shameful when he breathed against her lips and pulled away.

How such tenderness could be locked up in his powerful body, she didn't know. She hadn't appreciated it in Carver before.

They couldn't stay. "Let's get out of here," she said, and pulled away from his embrace. He wanted to hang on, it was clear, but he didn't stop her. They dressed in silence and she went to the jar, wanting to smash it against the wall. She picked it up. It was heavy with a _lot_ of coin. She would have to keep it stashed away and take from it slowly, making sure Gamlen never found it. Or Mother. She couldn't take the questions. Her heart throbbed as she looked over at Carver. "Ready?"

He nodded, and she couldn't bear the expression on his face. She straightened up and poured the coin into the pouches on her belt, completely filling them up. Carver could throw harder than her, but she left the jar on the table.

They walked out and Marian tried to keep her head held high. It would have been right for the whole clientele to stare at them as they walked through but nobody even noticed them.

Marian drank the cool night air and let it remind her of who she was and what was real. She looked over at Carver. "Don't let them win."

It wasn't much, but the fight was back in him, and he nodded. He took her hand.

They walked to Lowtown, the only question being: what kind of love did they have between them now?


End file.
